Two For Tea
By Musuko

musukomassiel-privatelog-270313-01.doc

I awoke to an alarm, loud and urgent. But all alarms are. I rolled onto my back and lay still in my nest of sheets, squinted my eyes against the red light spinning on the ceiling, and concentrated.
	It wasn’t a fire alarm. That alarm had more of a whoop whoop quality to it.
	Possibly the escaped experiment lockdown alarm. It sounded about right. I lifted my head and looked across to the bedroom door. The steel shutter hadn’t come down. Nope. Not the lockdown alarm.
	The radiological alarm perhaps? Wait...did we even have one of those? I could have been getting mixed up with some scifi show.
	It definitely wasn’t the...wait, hang on; shrill and high-toned, two rapid pulses, a pause, then one rapid and one long? That was “IA”. The intruder alert! Holy fuck, we’d never had an intruder alert.
	I sat upright in the bed, and at that moment the door swung open. Keven (not Kevin, as I found out after a shamefully long time of getting it wrong), my suite guard for the night, leaned in with one paw on the handle and the other on his stun gun.
	“Intruder, sir.”
	“Where?” I was half out of the bed, scouting for underwear.
	“Loading bay two, sir.”
	“How many?” I hopped in my struggle to pull on a sock and fell back into the bed.
	“Just one sir. Female. Feline. She...one moment sir.” He paused, paw raising up to his earpiece. It was an unnecessary action, but it was one I insisted upon, because it looked so much cooler that way. I buttoned up my shirt, missing a few holes, and tried to find my trousers. “She’s moved down a level, into general corridor six.”
	“Have the area evacuated.”
	“Already done, sir.”
	“And security?”
	“Establishing a perimeter.”
	I found my trousers under the bed and staggered about, pulling them on.
	“Today was meant to be my day off, you know.”
	“I know, sir.”
	“I had a lot of things planned.”
	“I know, sir.”
	I pouted, arms crossing my chest, looking up at Keven. You had to look up at Keven. He was a very, very big guy, a titanic slab of canine muscle, the biggest doberman I had seen, exuding the strength and confidence that earned him this job six months ago. This was his first week working solo as my personal suite guard, and I so looked forward to seeing that uniform removed. He broke his stern professionalism by glancing down at me, with my rumpled clothes and bed-messed hair, and I felt wonderfully childlike in his presence, and not a bit like the owner and CEO of a huge semi-legal global corporation. The little smile hinting on his lips told me all I needed to know, and what I already suspected; the boss’s penchant for raising his tail for his suite guards was common knowledge in the break room. I suspected there were pictures being passed around too. I could have sworn I saw a camera flash through my blindfold that last time Alec was on duty, when he did that thing with his tail...
	“The intruder, sir. We need orders.”
	No hot dicking for breakfast, then. After lunch perhaps. “Keep the perimeter around her and shift it as she moves. Stay out of sight. Don’t detain her unless she enters a class one area. Let’s see what she...wait, did the chemical sensors pick up anything?”
	“No indications of explosives or dangerous compounds on her person, sir. She is chewing peppermint gum and has used strawberry fur sheen in the last four hours, sir.”
	“Hah. Now they’re just showing off. Track her and let’s see what she does. We’ve not had an intruder before. I’m curious to see what she’s here for.”
	Keven nodded and his paw returned to his ear. He turned his head to mumble into his lapel. I leaned my head fractionally and eyed up his crotch, knowing full well he was watching me in his peripheral vision. Damn the anticipation.
	Le sigh. The fun...or at least, that particular fun...would have to wait.

I rocked up to central security with Keven’s jacket around my shoulders and a mug of tea in my paw. I slid into a seat next to Harold, duty surveillance coordinator.
	“Where is she now?”
	“She’s in dispatch admin, rooting around from the looks of it.” Harold didn’t say the word “sir”, not even to me. Harold was eighty. Nobody makes an eighty year old say “sir”. He had slowed down a little in recent years, understandably, but as a tortoise he hadn’t been all that quick to begin with. He was sharp-eyed, though, and patient. That’s what made him good here, in this room of glowing screens showing every little corner of my empire.
	“Can you see what she’s rooting around in?”
	“Of course.” He tapped a key, and the big screen lit up with the high-resolution image from a ceiling camera, positioned above and behind the lithe figure of a cheetah girl clad in black spandex from the neck down, tooled up with a vest studded with pockets, currently buried up to her elbows in a cabinet, rifling through files I knew well to be mundane.
	“Huh. Why would she be looking in there? Hang on...”
	I leaned over to peer at the screen. Harold obliged by zooming in. Amongst the pixels emerged a thought.
	“Tez,” I whispered.
	“Sir?” Keven was at my side, unnoticed until he wanted to be.
	“The girl who turned up at the front company...Amalgamated whoosama-whatever it was. She was a cheetah.” I tapped the face moving on the screen. “And now another one. Both intruders in different ways. What are the chances? I bet our new visitor has some connection.”
	“What do you want to do about her, sir?”
	“Hmm.”

So, we remoted on to all the terminals nearby and set the test subject roster up on the screens, in the hope that she would notice at least one of them in her search. It didn’t take long for the bait to catch her eye, and we watched her set down a stack of files and slink over to a terminal. She clicked around our system like a pro, lingered over a few names in our lists, before finally settling her cursor over one.
	It was Tez. I was right.
	The terminal dutifully told her where Tez could be located. Keven chatted to his radio. All non-security staff were on their way upstairs for a nice long lunch break. If our visitor showed any concern about the empty corridors and rooms she found between her and Tez’s cell, she didn’t express it in any way the cameras could discern.
	She reached the locked cell door, after having passed through all the others that were “conveniently” left unlocked. We watched her inspecting the keypad set into the painted steel.
	“I wonder what she’ll...” I was cut off. The audio feed cracked and went to static. The picture stabilised back from distortion, and a pall of smoke drifted up from the door, where a scorched hole marked where the keypad and locking mechanism had been. She wadded a cloth around her paw, pushed it into the hole, and with her foot against the door frame she pulled, sliding the door open against the protesting dead weight of the idle motor.
	And there, sat against the padding of the far wall, was our Tez, strapped into the pink straitjacket she had been enjoying for the past three months. Her muzzle was stretched nicely around a fat ball gag, and her expression was glazed and dead, as anyone’s would be after months of merciless tickling from the ever-moving putty tendrils infused in the jacket’s fabric. I heard Harold chuckle beside me.
	“She’s a lot of fun to watch when she’s a bit more awake.”
	“Harold, you old perv.”
	The visitor rushed into the room, grabbing Tez by the shoulders and shaking her awake. The cheetahs locked eyes, and frantic one-sided conversation commenced.
	“Can we get the audio back?”
	“Afraid not. The shock knocked out the microphone.”
	The locked gag came off all too easily, and we watched Tez’s silent mouth move.
	Keven cleared his throat. “She’s saying; Sarah, oh god, thank you, thank you, get me out of this thing, please, for the love of...”
	“Get security in there now, quickly! Before that jacket comes off!”
	Keven barked into his radio. I counted three seconds before Sarah straightened up, her paws above her head, confronted by the masked faces and menacing stun gun barrels of a half dozen very well-trained security officers.
	“Well done, everyone,” I said, my heart rate settling down. “Bonuses all round.”
	I finished the last of my tea.
	“Sir?” said Keven.
	“Get her trussed up and hand her over to Lili. Fetch Tez along too. Put them in the same cell.”
	My head swam with the possibilities...

I engineered the setup perfectly. There would be no embarrassments this time. The cell was darkened but for a single spotlight illuminating my two guests, the excess light soaking into the black-painted concrete walls and floor. I stood in the shadows, carefully positioned so that my sharp suit and shining shoes caught the light, but left only blackness from the chest up. In that blackness glowed the orange of an electric cigarette, only slightly gleaming off my eyes. The image was perfection itself, ready to be admired the moment the electronic blindfolds clicked off.
	A voice whispered in my ear. “We’re ready.” Doctor Sweet, my reluctant helper for the afternoon’s entertainment. I turned and nodded, my gesture watched by night-vision cameras.
	Tez and Sarah, partners in crime it seemed, strapped to universal restraint benches, angled up 45 degrees, heads at the top, Tez still enjoying her straitjacket and strapped appropriately, Sarah stripped bare and strapped spread-eagled, a rather fetching sight; everything pulled nice and taut and perky. Two cheetahs, both gagged with muting ball gags, both wearing electronic blindfold goggles, and both almost identical in nature bar Tez’s jacket and her trembling reactions to it.
But Sarah had the oddest fur I’d ever seen on a feline: it was short, very short, almost not there at all. I’d taken the opportunity to lean in close and inspect; much of her colouration came from the skin beneath only the thinnest fuzz of soft, silky-looking fur. This feature would demand future experimentation and exploration. Doctor Sweet was already making notes, full of ideas.
	“Good afternoon girls,” I said at the very moment their blindfolds clicked clear. My own voice sent chills up my spine; the coin-sized device pressed against my forehead, hidden under my hair, had modulated it to a deep, rumbling, menacing growl, so very unlike me. I stood still, firm, drawing on the cigarette to create an aesthetic glow, and watched their reactions; Tez closed her eyes and rolled her body in a more sensual version of her perpetual ticklish struggle, while Sarah’s forehead furrowed into a screaming rage, and despite the silence of the cell I could imagine her suppressed verbal abuse.
	Words lingered in my mind: we are going to play a game. No, definitely not. I would not say that. I let the time pass while my mind worked, while Sarah yanked pointlessly against her restraints and tried to pull her spread legs closed to hide her naked shame.
	“We are going to play a game.” Damn it! I rolled my shoulders and quietly cleared my throat. “I have before me two guests and one contract, one that dooms poor little Tez here to a solid year of merciless, unbearable tickling to her entire torso between her neck and her crotch...and that very much includes her crotch itself. Isn’t that right, Tez?”
	No sound but the metallic clank of Sarah’s restraint bench doing a sterling job of resisting a sudden violent struggle.
	“So, for my entertainment, and for everyone else’s, the pair of you are going to compete. Winner goes free. Loser...inherits, or keeps, the contract. Doesn’t that sound fair? Aren’t I kind?”
	I heard Doctor Sweet laugh in my ear. “Broadcast is live to all sites sir. Bets are being taken. But I’m afraid not many are taking your new voice very seriously.” I heard sniggers in the background. Damn them all!
	I stepped forward, showing myself in the light. I made a big deal out of reaching to my head and pulling away the device, tossing it behind me. I spoke again, my voice normal, but reduced to a more natural ominous whisper. “But there is a catch. There’s always a catch at CKC. The winner who goes free will not be able to speak of this place to anyone.” I turned to Sarah, leaning closer. Her anger didn’t fade, and she fixed me in a deathly glare. I grinned, although I felt my spine twist into a knot. “And you know that can ensure that.” I reached out and tapped the drool-drenched rubber ball stuffed deep into her maw. She flinched and turned her head away.
	I glanced down, then raised an eyebrow, and whispered quietly enough for Sarah’s ears only. Well, Sarah’s and the assembled throng of my eagerly-watching staff. “Even boy-centric little me can recognise the scent of a female feline’s stirring arousal. Tsk tsk, how very shameful. Why are you here, Sarah? A rescue mission...or were you jealous of Tez’s fun?”
	A hesitation broke Sarah’s glare for just a fraction of a second, and it was all I needed. Hah! This was wonderful. I swept away from her, throwing the electric cigarette away as if it were a spent real one, then clapped my paws. On that cue, the cell’s lights blazed to full glory, and the two girls winced away from the light (as did I, but I faced away to hide it from them), as their restraint benches turned on greased bearings to bring them face to face, angled fully upright, their strapped and gagged faces positioned a few feet apart, to give them a perfect spectator view of each-other’s expressions and bodies.
	I raised a spray bottle, and I suddenly had Tez’s attention. I didn’t disappoint. I misted the chemical across the straitjacket, and she instantly stopped her squirming, a look of bliss washing over her features as the tickling tendrils inside the jacket temporarily ceased their torture. Doctor Sweet assured me that this strength spray was enough to halt the tickling for at least three hours, which was perfect. I tossed the bottle as I did the other props. I liked the effect. I thought about making that my thing.
	“Right then. Let’s start with an intelligence test. You can both feel the straps across your necks, yes?”
	Tez nodded, her eyes never leaving Sarah. Sarah in return looked at her friend (Lover? Sister? Who knew) with mixed disgust and pity. She couldn’t possibly understand how docile and obedient so many long months of confinement and torture would make a poor girl, especially one who actively sought this out, or at least thought she did.
	“I’ll assume that’s a yes from the pair of you.” I turned and nodded to the cameras. I heard a click. Or rather, two clicks, and the straps holding the girls’ ballgags fell apart, allowing them to push the balls out of their jaws. I held up a paw for attention, and spoke in a rush.
	“I have observers manning buttons; if you vocalise anything even remotely like communication of any kind, those buttons get pressed...and those straps tighten very worryingly tight indeed.”
	Two wet thuds as the ballgags dropped to the floor. The pair flexed their jaws almost in unison, and I could see them exchanging questioning looks through the clear plastic of their blindfold goggles. I waited eagerly, expecting something. In the end, they seemed to settle on silence, all except for one long, shaky sigh from Tez. That was allowed.
	I beamed, extremely patronising, and I earned a lovely glare from Sarah for it. “Very good! I’m most impressed! This bodes well for the both of you. We’ll have this competition decided by the end of the day at this rate!”
	I fished a tiny pair of scissors from my pocket. Claw clippers, really. I snipped them repeatedly as I moved closer to Tez. “No struggling when your arms get free, or there’ll be trouble, understand? You’ll be a good girl and hold them up above your head to go into the restraints, just like Sarah’s arms are.”
	Tez nodded. Sarah seethed.
	I heard a wordless garbled noise in my ear, and I knew for the first time what an outraged panda sounded like. “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! You stupid mangy...”
	Someone, probably Harold, must have muted Sweet’s mic. I inserted the blade of the scissors under the lower edge of the straitjacket and started cutting. The pink fabric split apart as I eased the blades up over Tez’s tummy and between her breasts. She heaved her chest upwards, and for a moment her eyes met mine. Gratitude, perhaps? Fear? Stockholm Syndrome? Who could tell. I cut up along one arm, then up the other. She let her arms fall limp to her sides, then as the remains of the jacket fell away down her back to land on the floor she eased one flat palm across her tummy, smoothing down the ruffled fur previously disturbed by the tickling tendrils.
	“Thank...” she breathed, before a sharp beep sounded and a red light lit up on the collar. Her paws flew to her neck, and a panicked cry became a strangled wheeze as the collar’s inner lining squeezed hard around her throat.
	“Paws up into your restraints!” I snapped.
	Up they went, her wrists smacking hard against the open shackles. I raised a finger, and the light went off on her collar, accompanied by a soft hiss. The shackles closed and clamped solidly shut around her wrists, and she was restrained, breathing once more.
	I stood back, looking at the pair of them. Sarah growled quietly, a sound that would chill me thoroughly if the shackles holding her down were to fail. She was pissed. I smiled, and her anger only seemed to intensify.
	“The next time either of you speaks without permission and a collar activates, I will not allow it to be deactivated. You can and will die here. Be under no illusions about that!”
	I let that sink in for a few moments. The two girls stared at each other, breathing laboured, bare breasts rising and falling in just the right way to no doubt set plenty of the watching staff’s paws towards their laps. I had to admit that I liked the view myself, but I think I was more enticed by having two helpless creatures under my control, and a sharp thought reminded me that I had their consent to be victims, however scant and suspect that consent might be; one by virtue of trespass, with the loss of rights that comes with it (at least, in my eyes at any rate), and one by virtue of her signature on a fat contract.
	I was nothing like that horror Terik, who actively sought the least-consenting possible!
	And with my thoughts in that direction, it was time.
	“Send him in.”
	The door behind me slid open, and from the small airlock chamber beyond waddled the uncertain, clumsy form of Wolfy, Terik’s former plaything, my new mascot, walking quadrupedal on amputated stumps, his body blotched and mottled where his burns had healed and fresh growth of fur was only starting to appear, bleached blond against his natural grey by our rather imperfect healing processes. He hesitated just inside the doorway, his eyes flitting between the three of us.
	“Heel,” I said, clicking my fingers and pointing to the floor beside me.
	A growl wavered out through the heavy ring gag muzzle forcing Wolfy’s mouth open. A split second later it became a choking yelp as my thumb pressed the button on the remote in my pocket and the box on the back of his collar sent a hard crack of electricity into his neck. He scampered up to my side, his stumps protected from the concrete by the firm rubber padded caps we had fitted to them.
	“Sit!”
	He glared up at me as his rump settled to the floor.
	“Good boy!” I lowered my paw to pet his head, but he leaned away, that rumbling growl returning.
	“Come now, Wolfy. Be good for our guests! They’re really excited to meet you.” I held my thumb ready on the button, and I watched his eyes flit to my pocket, then back up. The growl died away, but the glare remained, and I petted the top of his head without obstacle.
	The two cheetahs watched me. Or rather, they watched Wolfy. Fear and anger were now gone, and in its place reigned revulsion. What a monster they must have thought I was! I had to speak out.
	“Wolfy came to us badly injured and modified. His condition was not our doing, but his healing and recovery was. We are a caring company, after all!”
	A voice in my ear. Harold, chuckling under his breath. “Bullshit.”
	“Wolfy here is going to play a part in our game.”
	Wolfy’s head tilted.
	I removed a small bottle from my pocket and shook the clear liquid contents. I popped the lid. Wolfy’s eyes dilated, and an intense, motionless calm gripped him. I smelled nothing. The other two felines smelled nothing. But Wolfy’s nose was suddenly awash with artificially-enhanced pheromones, as if he had thrust his face directly into the crotch of a female wolf in the throes of the strongest surges of heat that could be induced by cruel science, and then some. This cocktail was like the Class-A of aphrodisiacs. It would surely be illegal if any government knew about it (and weren’t nicely paid off by ourselves). Poor little Wolfy had no chance. The most chaste, noble, asexual being on the planet would be reduced to a ravenous, quivering heap of lust in seconds by the merest whiff of this stuff. I was rather impressed by his fortitude so far.
Wolfy’s eyes clenched shut, and his whole body began quivering. His ears reddened, blazing with the heat of a blush stronger than I’d seen him show. His tongue lolled in his spread open mouth, and I could practically feel the warmth radiating out from the rapidly-engorging wolf cock rising from his sheath. It was easy to forget sometimes that the broken little pet at my feet once was, and in many ways still was, a healthy, virile young man, despite his shyness and inhibitions and what must be a considerable heap of mental trauma. There was no way to forget right now! The poor boy pressed his hind legs together, trying to squeeze it away, trying to hide it. But there was no succeeding for modesty here. And with a whine, he parted his legs again, helpless to hide his shame.
	I upturned the bottle with my finger over the neck, wetting a minute patch of my fingertip. With great care, and with Wolfy stumbling along close to my side, his cock bobbing, his head flooded with primal lust, I approached the two girls and ignored their quiet, wordless protests and their wriggling bodies as I wiped my fingertip against the exposed pink lips of their vaginas, one after the other.
	Hell, no...not vaginas. I couldn’t claim to be that gay, or that removed from female form. Linda had seen to that all too often. No, Wolfy was not armed with a penis. It was a cock. And these girls had trembling, quivering cunts.
	And now they were steaming with canine pheromones, in the presence of one extremely excited wolf.
	I recapped the bottle and wiped my fingertip dry on Tez’s stomach fur.
	“So, this is going to be quite a simple game.” I stepped back. Wolfy didn’t, to my expectation. He slowly, hesitantly, edged closer to the space between the two girls, his nose twitching, the fog of pheromones flooding the space and sending his head into a spin. “The first to obtain orgasm wins. At this point, you may both speak freely!”
	Silence burned for the longest time, broken only by awkward panting from the wolf.
	“Tez,” came Sarah’s voice, a whisper. “We can’t play his game! We’ve got to get out of here. I came to get you. I came...”
	“H-here boy!” Tez’s voice, thin and dry. She coughed, a small noise, and spoke again with growing strength returning to her long-unused voice. “Wolfy...come here...p-please. Come here Wolfy.”
	“Tez!”
	“I’m sorry Sarah! You don’t know what it’s like! I have to! Wolfy, please! Come!”
	I watched, stood back, just a spectator to the drama, only included by the glare directed at me by Sarah. Wolfy’s head turned, first to Tez, then to Sarah. Then, after a long pause, it turned back to Tez and stayed. He lifted his rear from the floor and crawled up to the base of her restraint bench.
	“Yes! Wolfy yes, please do it...come here boy. Up!”
	“Tez, stop! Don’t play the game!”
	Wolfy lurched upwards, thudding his forelegs against the bench, scrabbling for purchase. He hopped, his hard cock bouncing and bumping against the bench, leaving a wet smear on the smooth metal, well below his target; the feline’s exposed crotch. He let out a feeble whine.
	“Tez, concentrate! Listen to my voice. You don’t need it. You can last a little longer! We’ll get out of here, and I’ll fuck you senseless with every toy we can find! Just don’t...”
	“Use your tongue, Wolfy,” Tez breathed. “Please...you understand me, don’t you? Please lick me!”
	Wolfy’s breath huffed through his nose, and a string of drool lengthened down from his lower lip. The hungry lust in his eyes faltered for a brief moment of understanding, and then all at once his muzzle was between Tez’s thighs. He slowly pressed forwards, flinching away from the first touches, retreating almost imperceptably. Hesitating, struggling, but quickly pressing forward with a hard thrust as the scent overwhelmed what remained of his resistance, his tongue tentatively extended and venturing against the heat in front of him, before the open ring of his gagged mouth pressed hard over her aching cunt, and his tongue, though unseen, was no-doubt thrust deep inside. Tez threw her head back with a heavy thunk against the bench and let out a moan of pornographic quality. Opposite, Sarah’s growl rose to a thunder, and her restraints rattled as she thrashed against them.
	A click in my ear. Harold’s voice. “I had my money on the other one. The odds were more interesting.”
	“It’s not over yet,” I whispered.
	Tez’s moaning ramped up to a shriek that made my ears ring, and Sarah’s struggles died down as her counterpart writhed on the bench and made the restraints strain more than Sarah’s had. Tez slumped limp, panting noisily. Wolfy pulled his glistening muzzle away and fell back onto his haunches.
	“I guess it is now.”
	Wolfy tilted his head back over his shoulder and eyed up Sarah’s vulnerable crotch.
	“Get the fuck away from me you twisted mutt!” she said.
	Wolfy rose and turned, his twitching nose advancing on Sarah’s pheromone-doused cunt.
	“Get away! Get away!”
	I chuckled under my breath and closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of Sarah’s outraged screech as Wolfy’s mouth and tongue hit home, followed not too long afterwards by the soft, shuddering squeaky noises of an orgasm not quite being muffled to silence.
	“Score one to Tez,” I said. “Sorry Sarah, no points for runners up.”
	“Fuck you!”
	“Silence now, the both of you. That means the collars are active. Remember my warning.” I clicked my fingers. “Wolfy. Wolfy! Come here boy. Focus. I know it’s hard. Come here, and we’ll go find you some eager and willing girl for you to thrust into. There’s sure to be no shortages.”
	Wolfy padded towards me, very slowly, his tongue lolling out past his ring gag. He blinked, and his expression cleared somewhat, a little of the old sentience returning through the vast and overwhelming fog of chemically-induced lust. The fear rose first, then the shame. He lowered his head and crept up to my side, a warning rumble of a trembling growl suggesting I keep my paws clear.
The two cheetahs hung limp from the restraint benches, Tez with her eyes closed, Sarah with hers open and staring foggily into the middle distance. I planned to give them some time to recover before round two.
	Harold’s voice returned to my ear. “Linda has just entered the room. She says...” He broke off with a clatter and a thud. Linda’s voice took over, panting, out of breath. “Linda here sir. I call dibs!”
	Hah. Well, alright then.

musukomassiel-privatelog-270313-02.doc

Round two. I had a cheeky little placard printed up with words to that effect, decorated with colourful stars, and augmented by a cheerful panda face sticker that Doctor Sweet insisted, with a very deadpan expression, be included. I held it up to the main camera in the cell. The lights were all on, but the two girls were blind, their goggles activated.
	They were also rather lewdly positioned on all fours, mounted in matching restraint frames that gripped their wrists, ankles and necks. They stood at either end of the room, facing one another, but with a good five foot gap between them.
	Behind me, through both opened airlock doors, I could hear the general murmur of masculine conversation. The air in there reeked of sweat and musk. I knew, because I’d spent the last hour enjoying a nice big whiskey in there. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to enjoy any other nice big things that happened to be in there. Nevermind. The assembled male members of Security B-shift had a good time teasing their boss, getting a few good gropes in, pulling me under their arms for close embraces, making sure I was good and flustered, making all sorts of promises to have me lick them all clean afterwards.
	Fuckers. God I love them.
	These girls didn’t know how lucky they were about to be.
	I moved between the pair of them, my fingers trailing along Tez’s back, making her jump and shiver against her restraints. Sarah’s head lifted and turned, tracking the sound. She growled under her breath. The collars still held their vocalisations in check.
	“You’re halfway there, girls. You’ve got another game to play. You’ll shortly be making a lot of new friends. There’ll be a tally. The winner is the one who makes the most friends. So...”
	And here, I bent down close to Sarah’s ear.
	“...be ready to squeeze and clench and generally be an eager fuckslut.”
	She snapped her teeth at me, and I withdrew.
	“Careful, sir.” It was Keven in my ear. That was sweet. He was looking out for me.
	I retreated to the corner of the cell, settling myself into a plush armchair set out ready for me. I commanded a wonderful view of the scene. I cradled a glass of whiskey and fiddled with an electric cigarette, and gave a little flick of my finger. The blindfold goggles clicked clear, and the cell door slid open, and two slabs of muscle stood illuminated from behind. One entered before the other. There was no way they’d both fit through the doorway together. Patrick and Michael, both canines of mixed pedigree, Patrick more Alsatian than not, and Michael leaning towards Rottweiler. Both very much ex-police (how they went from that career into this was the subject of much scrutiny upon their hire; it seemed their proclivities leant too far towards the deviant. Perfect for us). And both very naked, very erect, and very much eager to get their rocks off!
	Tez and Sarah both had their heads turned towards the door. Both started to wriggle in the restraints. But Tez, dear messed-up Tez, had her tail raised. I don’t know if she even knew it was. I watched, a silent audience, as their two new friends advanced, Patrick to Tez, Michael to Sarah.
	Lubrication was provided, of course. I’m not a total monster. The best we have. Silky slick and long-lasting. My deliciously-hunky canines slathered up their sizeable cocks until they gleamed. I crossed my legs and turned sideways in my seat, the heat rising in my ears. They smirked at eachother.
	“Ready then?” said Michael.
	Patrick responded simply by gripping his great big paw around the base of Tez’s tail, eliciting a squeal from her, and pushing the fat tip of his cock against her tailhole. Tez’s eyes widened, and she started violently shaking her head, stifling wild whimpers of panic.
	I probably should have warned the girls that Patrick and Michael were a couple, leaning towards certain activities. Oh well!
	Michael took his time with Sarah. Perhaps he was enjoying her growling, wordless threats. He swatted the flat of his paw against each of her buttcheeks, chuckling under his breath. Patrick was grinding forwards, making Tez clench her eyes shut and hiss through her teeth. Sarah’s eyes were on her friend, and something wonderful happened: at that moment she lifted her own tail, and the invitation for Michael to mount her was presented. The game was on, and it looked as if Sarah was going to play.
	I closed my eyes, and just enjoyed the noise; two stifled voices crying out in pain as two girthy cocks thrust into their well-lubricated, but woefully unprepared tailholes. I opened my eyes again to see the girls staring at eachother, eyes locked together, tears welling in them, a complicated intensity of wordless communication bridging the gap. Had I succeeded in driving a wedge into whatever relationship those two had going? Were they now competing properly?
	The boys started to thrust, their heads back, eyes closed, mouths parted, practically twins in how they expressed their enjoyment. Slowly at first, in and out, gentle thrusts to build up the pleasure. Each had their paws in the rumps of their fucktoys, gripping hard enough to dumple the flesh and fluff the fur up between their fingers, in Tez’s case at least.
	Then, slowly, their rate increased. Both practiced experts at getting their flow right, they didn’t rush, nor did they dawdle. I watched, fascinated, wondering what these two must be like in bed together. I watched their knots swell, and saw how they pounded against the girls’ tailholes, each thrust threatening to shove them inside. It was mesmerising.
	Two new shadows appeared at the door, the next two eager men awaiting their turn. They didn’t have to wait long. Patrick and Michael twinned eachother in their actions; claws gripping deep into firm buttcheeks, heads tilting back, tongues lolling, panting breathing turning to mrowling moaning howling noises of shuddering pleasure...
	...then both sank back onto their heels and eased backwards, sliding their slick cocks free and letting them smack wetly against their toned tummies. Each left rivulets of hot canine cum in a splattery trail from butt to cock, all down the girls’ legs and splashed onto the floor. Michael arched his back and cracked his neck, and Patrick walked around the girls, seeming to ignore them now, even as Sarah glared and Tez whimpered, eyes wandering over the pair.
	Arm in arm, the boys left, Patrick swatting the offered paw of one of the two now entering.
	“Dead heat so far, but it’s very early,” I whispered, mostly musing to myself.
	On it went. On and on. The changes were gradual, but distinct. Sarah’s anger withered away around about the time when, finally, a cock slid into her cunt rather than her rear. In its place was an expression I knew all too well; shame. Abject, unbearable shame. It helped her cause. It really did. I saw many hurried games of rock-paper-scissors as the men entered, most seeming to aim for the tear-streaked unwilling new girl who had broken their security, over the meek and almost docile victim of weeks and weeks of torment and conditioning. Tez seemed almost eager, her tail held firmly up, her expression awash with helpless, panting desire. And it was she who seemed to delight in her frequent orgasms. If Sarah had any...well, she hid them well. At least from my view. Someone more familiar with the female form might have seen otherwise. She had to have had some. The pounding Sarah received was far and away more energetic than anything Tez endured.
	And by the end, with everyone spent, and the floor awash and treacherous, and with a room full of sweaty, ramped up guys lounging and bantering on the other side of the door, I stood between the girls and read out my tally.
	“Sarah, 26. Tez, 14.”
	A soft groan from Tez. And Sarah, her face still wet, her eyes raw, stared wide-eyed and shook her head as Tez’s expression knotted with shock...and perhaps betrayal? It was hard for me to guess with their both looking so exhausted.
	“Sarah wins. That’s one win each. The next round will decide it. Now, excuse me ladies.”
	And off I went...hurrying in to join Security B-shift.

musukomassiel-privatelog-280313-01.doc

Morning came. I had some cereal and a massive pot of hangover-killing coffee. The wages of sin.
	Still feeling groggy, I went down to see how the girls were doing. My timing was perfect: they were just waking up. As we left them, ready for round three. Two naked, gagged girls, laid side by side in an empty cell, drugged into an enforced night’s sleep, with only one thing between them; a putty-infused straitjacket.
	It had taken a great deal of begging and appeasement to get Sweet to agree to provide a fresh one. In the end I think he gave in just to stop me bothering him.
	I sat at the screens with Harold, sipping my coffee. The cameras fed to recordings. I doubted there were many others up early enough to enjoy this live. Nine in the morning is early after a special event here.
	A stirring...Sarah. She lifted her head and rolled it to the side, eyes opening, slowly at first, then snapping wide open. She bolted upright, tense and poised, looking around her, then at Tez. Then at the straitjacket. Her hand moved to her mouth, touching at the ballgag. I saw her throat move, but she was silent, as expected.
	She crawled across to Tez and reached for her shoulder. Her fingers paused before reaching her. Sarah’s eyes had caught on the straitjacket, on the note sat atop it.
	“Wearer loses,” was all it said.
	I leant over the screen. Sarah was a statue. Then her fingers twiched, and curled back up against her palm, withdrawing from Tez’s sleeping form. She crouched over by the jacket, flicking the note away and looking down into the open maw of the garment, where the pink putty lay in still dormancy. She extended an exploratory finger into the garment and recoiled as the putty extended its tendrils up towards her body heat, writhing like a sea anemone, before smoothing back out to blank smoothness.
	I watched as she scooped up the garment, carefully sliding her arms underneath it. The putty woke again, wriggling and ready, as Sarah stood with the jacket, walking over to Tez, standing over her.
	“This should be good,” said Harold. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was so fixated on the screen that I’d forgotten he was there.
	“Do you think she’ll do it? Put it on Tez I mean.”
	“Nah.”
	“Oh?” I looked over at Harold’s grin. He declined to elaborate.
	Sarah’s grip tightened on the jacket, and the putty went crazy, straining to pull free of its fabric prison to envelop her. Long moments dragged as I watched, wondering. Would she? Would she?
	She took a step backwards. One arm dropped away from underneath the jacket, letting it hang from one paw. She inhaled deeply, chest rising, eyes closing, breath held for a long, long time. Then exhaled through her nose. Eyes open, and a sudden flurry of movement...
	“Holy fuck,” I gasped.
	Sarah had swung the jacket behind her and, in one fluid movement, slid one arm in and then the other, pulling the sides together across her chest. The putty did the rest; although it couldn’t pull her arms around her, it could crawl its way across her fur and seal the front of the jacket closed to all but those with access to the disarming spray.
	She lasted all of three seconds on her feet before collapsing onto her knees. Her face was a tight knot, brow creased, eyes clenched shut, teeth sunk hard into the ballgag. Only the lack of audible laughter made the expression ambiguous. I leaned back in my chair, breathing out my tension.
	“Well, what do you know. A noble sacrifice.”
	“Told you.”
	“How did you know, Harold?”
	Just the smile. Nothing more.

musukomassiel-privatelog-280313-02.doc

I lost track of Sarah after that. I returned to my bed to sleep off the rest of my hangover, and by the time I came back around, Sarah was long gone into Sweet’s maze, possibly never to return. A concession agreed for the jacket.
	I shuddered, imagining poor Sarah screaming with laughter as the jacket tickled her. I nearly passed out imagining her having to listen to BunBun chatter to her day after day. Hopefully, Sweet wasn’t being that cruel.
	And Tez, well. Her little epilogue is a little milder. I was told that she didn’t wake up until after Sarah was removed from the cell, so it was easy to convince the poor girl that she had lost and Sarah had won and was free. She didn’t seem overly distraught. Well, perhaps a little.
	But good news for her, at any rate; she no longer had to wear that jacket. I found a new duty for her. Something very useful to me.
	I had lunch out on the balcony and watched the central garden from afar. Between the palms and the modified long grass (X-1039 I think...or X-831. Fuck it, I lose track), I could see two figures moving; quadrupedal Wolfy, reluctantly walking along and resisting his leash, as Tez took him out for his daily walk; her arms behind her in a rather fetching leather binder, her mouth gagged, her body squeezed into a tight leather bodice, her feet padlocked into a very tall, very uncomfortable pair of heels.
	And the leash...attached to the base of a nice fat buttplug, stuffed deep into Tez’s rear, every tug forcing her to clench tight to keep it from pulling out.
	She still thought she was a contracted test subject. I liked to think of her as an unwilling, unpaid employee.
	Hmm. I wonder if there was a more concise word for that.